Patreon Poem/Prayer/Song 43: For Hel

If you want to submit a request for a prayer, poem, or song to be written to you privately or to be posted on this blog or my Patreon for a God, Ancestor, or spirit, sign up for the Ansuz and above level here on my Patreon.

This was requested by Alexis for Hel.

You slid from Your Mother

Half-Dead

Frost in Your lungs, hue on Your cheek

Young, You walked Your own road

The mountain opened to You

Your kingdom yawned before You

The root of the Tree wrapped around

Burrowed deep in dark earth

Ever-living in the Hall of the Dead

In the dark there was a hound

Fur the color of caves

Hungry and howling

Garmr was Yours, then

Your shadow, Your guard

As You set Your hall well

A great Jötun

Clad in pitch-dark armor

Crossed the Gjöll with purpose

Móðguðr, She was called

Who travelled the Hel-road

To seek to serve

So You built Gjallarbrú

Setting the sentinel upon it

A guard and guide for the Dead

Your gardens grew under Sunna’s light

So none would go without

That all would be welcome and well-fed

Your hall descended and deepened

So all would have a place

No matter their designation or death

Hail Hela

Ever-patient, ever-giving

Generous Goddess of mounds, ashes, and graves

May offerings ever be made

For the comfort and care that You give

To us and all our Ancestors

Hail Hela!

For Kuro

It feels like we just met

Seventeen years ago

I insisted I did not like cats

You didn’t seem to care about that

You wrapped your paws around my neck

Buried your face in mine

You became my boy that day

 

You were quiet at first, often hiding

Your brother, Aoshi, the loud one, the outgoing one

You so gentle and soft, quiet and affectionate

When he died all that changed

 

You were there, we made sure of it

You cuddled with him a bit, not quite knowing

Soon it dawned when we went home

and he stayed behind

 

You understood soon enough

Then something amazing happened

You came out, were loud, and demanded attention

You had taken your brother’s place

 

My sweet boy

You crawled into laps and curled into chests

You whined loud enough to wake the dead at mealtime

You purred so loud I could feel it when we cuddled

 

Weeks have passed since we saw each other

This damn isolation

You recognized me on the screen when I called

Purred and nuzzled the screen

 

Your Mom called me

You had taken a turn for the worst

Despite good food, medicine, and care

Nothing else could be done

 

I ran home, up the stairs

So small, so tired

You stared at me with your beautiful green eyes

You held on for me

 

O my sweet boy

I held you and I know you knew

I heard your gasping meow

I felt your sweet, slow heart

 

It ripped at me to see you like this

Yet blessed too

You held on for me

So I could hold you

 

We prayed, all of us, your Mom and I

To Freyja, to Bast, to Sekhmet, to Hela

That your death was as painless as could be

That it was quick

That your brother walked with you at the end

That you know we love you

 

An hour later the call came through

You were dead, your pain at an end

My eyes filled with tears

My heart with sorrow, prayers answered

 

I ache that this was the first time I saw you

In eight weeks

But blessed to see you

Before you had to go

 

Rest well my sweet boy

Rest and know we hear you

Walk with your brother and Ancestors

Visit us when you can

I love you, Kuro

Submissions to Odin’s Agon

For Óðrerir’s Brewer

You kindled in me a love for brewing
Water, honey, yeast
Sacred magic, old magic

Kvasir’s brood, your spit

Relaxing and maddening

Teasing out the ties
Inspiration strikes
Fury froths

Growling forth from each sip, each gulp

May each brew be a worthy working

Each bottle a sacred vessel

Each glass a welcome offering

Alliterative Poem to Odin

Wind and wound

Scream and spell

Health and harm

Scar and sense

Wrath and release

Power and purpose

Grey and gold

Eye and iron

Hanged and hale

Making Midgard

When the Sons of Borr took up the spear

No ravens flew or wolves roamed

Nifelheim was far too cold

Muspelheim far too hot

They dreamed of more than ice and mist, fire and smoke

A World teaming with life, with warmth and with cold

A World full of flowing waters and rain

A World between the the Worlds

So when They slew Ymir

The Sons of Borr took up the best of all Worlds to make Midgard

Fire from Muspelheim gifted by Surtr

Ice from Nifelheim taken from Ymir

Fertility from Vanaheim gifted by Freya, Freyr, and Njordr

Wildness from Jotunheim made by the Jotnar

Riches from Svartalfheim dug deep by the Dvergar

Liminality from Alfaheim made by the Alfar

Death from Helheim overseen by Hela

Potential from the Ginnungagap woven by the Nornir

Within the Middle Yard each World was woven to the others

Crafted with care by the Sons of Borr

Prayers for the Harmed and Murdered of Orlando, FL

May Eir and Mengloth bless those in harm’s way

May the healers be careful, skilled, and compassionate

 

May Thor protect those in harm’s way

May the communities be safe from harm, secured by His Hammer

 

May Loki, Angrboda, and Sigyn bring laughter, protection, and perseverance

May mirth, solidarity, and determination lift up those harmed and grieving in this tragedy

 

May Tyr and Forseti bring justice to the Dead, to the families, to all those harmed

May justice be done, lawful and swift

 

May Freyr, Gerda, and Freya bring Their love, sensuality, and vitality

May we celebrate ourselves together, and with Them, stand by those we love

 

May Odin and Frigga bring wisdom to the leaders

May action be guided by wisdom, may work be guided by insight

 

May Hela take up the Dead

May She bring Them comfort and care

 

May the Landvaettir be heard

May They, too, have justice, and may Their needs be met

 

May The Dead hear the calls of Their loved ones

May They know They are remembered, and may those They left behind be comforted

 

May the newly-Dead be long-remembered

May They be remembered for more than Their deaths; may Their lives be remembered well

 

 

 

Connecting with the Gods, Ancestors, and Vaettir Outside Part 2

Growing food and connecting with the Gods, Ancestors, and vaettir related to it is an area of life that, as a shaman, I have only recently had the time off to devote to it.  In previous years my schedule was so up-and-down or constantly changing that getting out and helping with the garden consistently was damned near impossible.  Last year we could not even maintain a garden outside of the yearly asparagus harvest due to our home’s varying schedules.  This year I have a far more stable schedule, so now I can give the time to get in the garden and learn from the Holy Powers and my living family.  I did not realize it till sitting down and writing it, but that is one hell of a burden lifting off of me.  I have enough hours to keep up with bills and enough time off consecutively so I can get things done.

We actually have a good deal of plants in the ground this year.  Lots of tomatoes, green beans, and beets.  We also planted squash, zucchini, and a few herbs.  Provided the birds lay off of them for a bit, we should have a good harvest.  In past time where we have planted equivalent amounts of tomatoes, green beans, and similar plants, we’ve had a good-sized stockpile even after giving away some of the harvest to family and friends.  It’s one of the reasons I am looking forward to the fall harvest.

There’s more to connecting with the Gods, Ancestors, and vaettir outside than just my garden or the local parks, though.  As I mentioned in the previous post, Skaði has charged me to learn how to hunt, to skin and dress a kill.  I have a wonderful Aunt with a standing offer to teach me to bow hunt after I take a safety course.  I am also blessed with a good friend who has offered to teach me the same.  With the amounts of time I have off every week I am actually far closer to making this a reality and fulfilling the rest of the obligations I have with Skaði.

The fertility of the landvaettir is a blessing, one that I believe we carry as an obligation to keep in partnership with Them.  It feeds us, nourishes us body, mind, and soul as surely as we help nourish the landvaettir by living well with Them.   The soil, the plants, and the animals all deserve their due, their respect.  Whether we are hunting, fishing, gardening, farming, ranching, or foraging, without the Gebo of honoring the cycles around us and taking care in our work, we do deep harm.  We can see the effects of this breakdown in how neonicotinoids are harming honey bees, how fracking is poisoning the water we drink, and how the elimination of predators has deeply upset the balance in regards to deer and similar animal populations.

Paying attention and honoring the cycles of life and seasons brings us into closer alignment with the Gods, Ancestors, and vaettir.  Given a good number of the surviving holidays we have are directly tied to seasonal and harvest cycles, it also helps to place them into a context that makes a good deal more sense than celebrating because a date rolls around.  I think as polytheists, Heathens and otherwise, carry traditions forward even more variations will emerge based on the climates where we live.  Truly partnering with the Holy Powers in our lives is working with the cycles we have rather than the cycles we are told by a book we ought to be imitating.  Many of us live in places where the seasonal cycles are different from, or simply do not match those that have survived in lore and archaeology.  If we are to live in good Gebo with the Holy Powers we will need to adapt to the way things are.

Part of living in better Gebo with the Holy Powers also requires us to look at how we live outdoors.  What do our practices like gardening, farming, ranching, and the like have on the soil, the plants, the animals, and the water?  How does water flow?  Are the lands our homes rest on full of one-species non-native grass?  Why?  How can we better encourage native species to flourish?  How can we encourage the fertility in land, plant, and animals that makes life possible?   How do we live in good Gebo with the world around us?

I found myself seeing a lot of these answers in person at the Amma Center Amrita Farms in Ann Arbor and from the MI Folk School.  More importantly, Sylverleaf and I were able to get hands-on experience with these answers. We spent a day at the Amma Center with the people working on the farm area, permaculturists who have worked a great deal to help the land distribute water more effectively, and to utilize the space to greater effect for food production without using pesticides or insecticides.  We explored the creation of berms and swales, hugelkultures, crater gardening, the use of a keyline plow to make small keyline swales, the creation of compost tea, and small-scale orchard creation.

For those unfamiliar, here are some links for what berms and swales are, and how they are made.  This PDF explains berms and swales in pretty simple terms with explanations of when they are and are not good design ideas. This link has a good overview and video on swales.  This link shows berms and swales in action on a project for a front yard rain garden.  The work Sylverleaf and I did at Amrita Farms’ main area for berms and swales was to help transplant some apple trees out to areas better suited to them.  The staff led us on a survey of the berm and swale systems, and how it solved the Farms’ water flow problems.

What I want to stress here is that this is not fighting the landscape or imposing a system the land rejects.  Rather, it is helping the land to better work with water runoff to help solve water allocation issues one might have.  In many cases the berms serve not only as physical landscapes for the water to run over, but also a gathering point for plants to help combat soil erosion, helping to increase the ability of the land to keep its shape and provide fertility to the soil.  The swales give the water places to go without disrupting the landscape, and it helps catch water in the soil in a way that is efficient and works with the land rather than dumping all the water into a low point where it can attract mosquitoes and other insects.

In another section of the Farms, keyline plowing was used.  This link has a good overview on the technqiue.  It was done in an area where full-blown berms and swales would not have been desirable, and allowed for water to flow into the cut channels in directions that helped maximize water retention, and guided excess water to a pond.  Again, what was emphasized was this worked with the flow of the earth, with the keylines acting as guides for the water to flow.  While the Farms used laser-guided equipment and had a tractor come out to do the keyline work, we were shown that land surveying can still effectively be done by hand using simple survey techniques, and that (depending on the soil and one’s resources) having animals do the keyline plowing would not be out of the question.

The last, and for me the most fun I had at Amrita Farms, was when we made a hugel.  Hugelkultur is a beautiful way to compost wood, and a description of it is here.  Since we have a decent amount of deadfall at our home I am looking at making a hugel, though far smaller than the one we made at the Farm.  That’s the beauty of methods like these: most can be made to suit far smaller pieces of property than farms, and the projects that required mechanized equipment like the berms and swales, can be done by hand with a shovel or pick.

What I bring home from these workshops, again and again, is that there are far more healthy and wise ways to live in Gebo with Jörð than what capitalism and agribusiness continues to push at and on us.  These ways are far more accessible than one might think at first; permaculture can scale with one’s home and land (even if that land is, say, a community garden space), and hugelkulture can use great dead trees, or twigs as needed.  These ways, found in permaculture, gardening, various types of natural home-building, and so on, are ways we can live upon Her that helps us as people live more whole lives, and in doing so, bring us closer to the Gods, Ancestors, and vaettir.  If we take in these ways and help to foster them in others, we can help our future generations survive and thrive.  Taking these steps to restore our connection and relationships with Jörð and the landvaettir takes the vital connections that were sundered in and between our communities, and seeks to tie them together even stronger,  I can think of precious few gifts we could give the next generation than a lived, healthy, powerful relationship with the Holy Powers, and lived, healthy, powerful, relationships with our communities, both grounded in trust, respect, and honor.

As I mentioned in Part 1, as I become inspired (or pushed, as the case may be) to write, I will add to this series of posts.

Connecting with the Gods, Ancestors, and Vaettir Outside Part 1

My indoor and outdoor vés and worship spaces get more time from me depending on the time of year, and where I am feeling drawn.  Given that now is the planting season, I’ve been spending quite a bit of time outdoors.  My family maintains a main vé outdoors in a small grove of trees where I have placed Odin’s godpole and where our family makes our Sacred Fires.  As I have mentioned in previous posts, Hela and Niðogg’s vé is the compost heap.  When we finally spread the soil after a year of adding to it, it was dark black, and had a rich sweet smell to it.  Where animals have been buried, all in the main vé, I also feel Hela’s presence.

This entire last week or two I’ve been outside quite a bit with the family in the large garden we’ve been prepping, tilling, then planting.  Every time we go out there is a time to pray, every action out there an opportunity to come closer to the Gods, Ancestors, landvaettir, and other vaettir.  It doesn’t replace the offerings I make.  I make those too.  It might be a glass of water on a vé, it might be smoke offered from tobacoo or mugwort in a sacred pipe, those same herbs placed in/upon the Earth, or an offering from me as I do the work such as a song or praise.

Today, as I dug each small hole for the green beans, I prayed to Jörð, Freyr, Gerda, Freya, the landvaettir, the Disir, the Väter, and the Ancestors.  I sang songs I was taught in Ojibwe, and I sang songs for my Catholic Ancestors, who were coming on strong today, with my Dad as we planted.  The days when I dug the Earth I sang songs for Jörð and the landvaettir.  Increasingly, making songs for the Holy Powers is becoming a part of my offerings alongside the others.  I like it.  It’s an offering of breath and creativity, since a lot of the songs I’m making up the verses as I go along.

The Ancestors have been there every time, and fairly thick.  I’m not surprised; up until my generation, most of my family on both my parents’ sides have come from farmers.  It makes sense that I would feel a lot more of Them during similar activities, and that They are pushing for me to get land, animals, and the like.  I felt some different Ancestors around me, though, when my Dad hit a mole with the rototiller Friday.  Rather than simply bury it, my Mom actually suggested I skin it.

I asked the mole if it would give me permission to skin it.  When she agreed, I set up a space for it in the main vé.  I asked Ansuz to help me cleanse, Gebo to help me ground, and did my usual grounding, centering, cleansing, and shielding work.  This would be my first time skinning an animal; I wanted to do it right.  Given Dad’s done it before, he showed me how to sharpen the knives I might use, and briefly explained the cuts I would need to make.  I returned to the vé, and made prayers to the Gods, Ancestors, vaettir, and landvaettir, asking for Their help.  At first I was surprised by Skaði’s Presence.  Then, I remembered: A long time back when I was first introduced to Skaði by Odin during my ordeal on the Tree and work in the Nine Worlds, She had tasked me with, among other things, learning how to make a kill, skin, and dress it.  While I do still need to do this in full, She let me know this was a good first step.

It turns out skin is damned tough.  I knew the knives were sharp, but this being my first time out, I wasn’t expecting how tough, especially on a little thing like a mole.  I was frustrated.  So, I returned and asked Dad if there was something I was doing wrong.  He came out, looked at it, and then mentioned to me that he usually started from a cut along the throat in bigger animals.  In this case, he felt I should behead the animal.  I asked the mole for permission to do so, and when the mole gave it, I did.  I took a breath, made some prayers, and focused.  I looked at the knives in front of me, and finally went with the smallest: a slim, curved steel knife with a deer antler hilt, a wolf burned into the pommel.  Again, I took a breath, made prayers, and focused.  I felt an Ancestor help guide me.  “This way,” Their hand on mine, showing me.  I cut, felt the blade slide through skin, flesh, flesh the crunch of bone, cartilege as I severed the mole’s head.  I thanked it for allowing me to do this, to take its body and make something from it.  To learn from it.  I set the head gently aside, bowed my head to it, and proceed to skin the rest of it.  An occasional ‘Good’ or ‘Careful’ from one of the Ancestors.  It went a good deal faster than I thought it would, and in about half an hour or so, I had it skinned and fleshed without damage to the fur or the skin.  I heard a ‘Good’ from Skaði and heard no more from Her, though Her Presence lingered until the mole was buried.  I pinned the skin to a good-sized chunk of wood, stretched it, and placed pickling salt on it.  I will be getting some alum as well, and following instructions to make this a pliable, tanned skin.

When its skin was safe in a dark corner of the garage, I returned to the sacred grove with a shovel, and offerings.  I asked the landvaettir for permission to dig, and once They gave it, and I ‘felt’I had found the spot, I dug a small hole.  I prayed to Hela and Niðogg, asking Them to accept the mole.  I placed the body inside, put down some tobacco and mugwort in offering to the mole and covered the hole.  I then gave some in offering to the Gods, Ancestors, and landvaettir.  I washed the ceramic tile I had used, and went inside.  I made prayers as I physically cleaned the knives and my hands, thanking the Gods, Ancestors, and vaettir for Their patience, willingness to teach, and the sacrifice of the mole.

It’s interesting in reflecting on it.  The life-generating cycle of prepping, tilling, and planting was started just a few days after this animal was killed and skinned.  I approach both in a sacred way because both are sacred.  I was not inspired to give songs for the mole; I was inspired to give reverent silence and my full care to the process of skinning, of not damaging the gift that she had given me.  I was inspired to sing loudly during the prepping, the tilling, and the planting.  Different sacred encounters with the Gods, Ancestors, and vaettir ask us to take different attitudes, actions, and offerings.  Perhaps the next time I skin an animal it will ask for a song, or for many songs.  Perhaps it will ask that I dance.  Perhaps Skaði or Freyr will ask that I dance, or sing, or to be silent.  Perhaps the next time I prepare a field, or till a field, or plant, the landvaettir, or the Gods will ask for my silence, a Sacred Fire, a ritual from my family, or perhaps They will ask for the same offerings year after year.

In connecting with my Gods, Ancestors, and vaettir outside, it has made me realize just how much I rely on Them.  It made me realize in very grounded terms that I am vitally connected with the Holy Powers in very down-to-Earth ways: that Freyr is in the asparagus as well as His statue, that He helps to give life to the land, and that Gerda is both present on the Gods’ altar and in the garden giving life to the land and growth to the plants.  I understand the landvaettir are  the asparagus, tomatoes, beans and squash as much as They are the trees of the sacred grove, the grass of the lawn, the animals that dart about them, and the rich earth of the garden itself.  In understanding this, I understand the landvaettir are part of the house and the land, and that this land (and a good deal more I may never see, i.e. farms, mines, production areas, etc.) will help to sustain my family and I.  In understanding this connection I know that the Ancestors are right here with me, supporting me in the work at hand, and that if I listen They will help guide me in what to do.  All of these things reinforce the understanding that the Gods, Ancestors, and vaettir are as vital a part of our communities as its living human members are.

Connecting and understanding my relationship with the Holy Powers is knowing, and especially acknowledging, that I need these connections spiritually as well as physically.  In putting my hands in the Earth and asking the Holy Powers to help me grow the food, I asking Them to help me be a shaman that, paraphrasing the words of my dear friend Two Snakes, “can make the beans grow”.  I am asking Them not only to help me feed my family and I physically, but feed us spiritually as well, living in good Gebo with the Gods, Ancestors, and vaettir, and furthering my path as a shaman.

This post is getting a little lengthy and starting to flow away from the topic at the start, so I think I’ll split this up into two posts.  If I get the inspiration maybe this will become a series of posts.

Outdoor Practices and Shrines: The Shrine to Hela and Niðogg

With the Spring finally here in Michigan, I thought I would take some time to go over some of the practices I keep outside.

I maintain an active shrine to Hela and Niðogg. It is rotten, and full of life-giving soil.  Snakes have lived in it, and it gives much-needed nutrients back to the soils when we incorporate it in the gardens we keep. It is a compost pile. When I take the compost to it I make a simple prayer: “Hail to the Gods of Death and Rot. Hail Hela and Niðogg.” This one of many devotional acts one could offer to these powerful, and sometimes maligned and misunderstood Goddesses.

Given so many of us are going to Hela’s realm, whether ourselves or others, I would think cultivating a good relationship with Her would be a good thing to do. She is a holy Goddess who houses our Dead, who gives the Ancestors comfort and rest. It is rude to denigrate the Hostess of our Dead. So I praise Her, and thank Her for housing my Dead, for letting Them speak with me, for helping me to hear Them.  In building closer ties to death and Hela, we better appreciate and revere life.  Through Her we connect with our past and our Ancestors.  For that alone She should be given deep respect and praise.  

Niðogg’s presence in the world, eating the poison given to the Tree, gnawing at the dead roots of Yggdrasil and traitors and oathbreakers is one which is needed. It is not pretty. It is often thankless. She is the eater of our most rotten Dead. The liars, the oathbreakers, the traitors. She eats the poison and the rot from the Tree, and helps the Tree to grow even as She does eat at the healthy roots.  In appreciating the poison Niðogg takes on, it should inspire actions to prevent the poisons that ravage our planet, our nations, our homes, and our communities.

Yet, like a great many small or simple devotional acts that build on themselves, the results are wonderful, perhaps profound, when built well and with frequency. The effects on the garden, when we do these things, are good. Our Gods do not exist only in some ‘out there’ sense. If we are living in good relationship with Them, that will have some kind of effect in this world. It does not need to be dramatic; Hela and Niðogg do not come burrowing out of Jörð to declare to me the compost is good and sacred. It is sacred because the respect for Jörð, the landvaettir, Hela, and Niðogg is present whether I am alone, or my son or his mother helps offer the compost. It is sacred because I have maintained the shrine to these Goddesses, and the landvaettir have allowed the space to let us work with Hela, Niðogg, and Them so we may eat. We are the landvaettir’s guests and friends. We have invited the Gods to come to this place. In doing this, our family has chosen to be a bit closer to death and rot, and to build respect and good relationships with both.  Doing this we invite the Goddesses to share in Their blessings with my family and I.

The Shrine to Hela and Niðogg in the backyard.

Mordgud

Death’s Defender waits

She watches, white eyed, white-haired

Over the Dead’s grim Gate

 

Her spear glistens in the snow

Arms arrayed in black

and sword hangs on Her hip

 

None but the invited pass

Beyond Gjallarbu’s gaze

Beneath the wary watcher

 

 

Fast: Day Three

Today was a lot of kicking back and relaxing, much to my surprise.  It wasn’t until later in the day that Odin and I began to work on things.  Usually my Wednesdays are days I set aside for silence, meditation and communication with Him.  He told me to take a break today, no questions asked.  So I wrote on forums, played World of Warcraft, and watched TV until later in the day, when He finally told me what He wanted me to do with Him.  It came rather sudden as I sat in the basement on my computer.  I bolted up.  It felt like lightning had been shot through me.

My folks were getting ready for work, and He began to tell me things He wanted me to take out to the garage rapid-fire.  I headed out into the garage with one of my testing needles, two clean, unblemished and uncrinkled sheets of paper, my copy of Wyrdwalkers, the pen I was using to write the Hávamál-style poem we are writing, the notebook the poem is in, a year-old bottle of wine from Samhain, and my iPod.  He told me there to purify and sanctify the area, to lock it down tight for the work we would be doing.  At first I was confused, since He had neither mentioned nor even hinted at anything.  I did it anyway, similar to how I had done the previous night, taking the extra step of ‘locking down’ the door from the house to the garage.  Once the wards were in place, I went back to the altar.  This time, though, the candles were pink on the left, blue on the right, and purple in the middle.  He told me I would get later why He had me give the pink as Ve.

As the smoke rose from the charcoal, I put down Mugwort onto it, and cleansed myself with the smoke.  Something felt…off.  It felt odd, like the world was slightly tilted.  As I continued to cleanse myself, I breathed deep, and put a dab of the wine onto my Ancestors’ statue, then Odin’s.  The tilted feeling was still there, but it felt good. Then, at Odin’s request, I brought some of the wine into my mouth, swished it, and spat it out outside onto the ground, as He said, to share the wine with my Him and my Ancestors without actually drinking it, and offering a bit of myself to the landvaettir.  My mouth tingled a bit from it when I came back in, and looked to the altar.  He told me it was time, and to grab a chair.  So I brought one with me up to the altar, and sat before it.

Odin gave me a quick explanation, and demanded I start right away after telling me to put on The Lord of the Ring’s The Council of Elrond.  The song hit me immediately…I started to trance, and heard Him ask “What is the first thing you would get rid of?” and I wrote the Rune for it.  I kept writing Runes, losing track of time, until I had everything I could think of.  All the personal flaws I wanted to fix or let go of, all the problems I wanted to move through or remove as obstacles.  I checked the bindrune against my bag of Runes, and when They were satisfied, He told me why I needed the needle.  The Runework would not be complete without a bloodbond to it.  I sterilized and blessed the needle by the three candles’ flames, and poked my right index finger as He asked.  Then, He asked more of me: to give blood from each of my fingers to this, to seal up this bindrune with blood from all of them.  I did this, and when I finished I turned the paper over, and wrote my first name, Sarenth, in blood Runes.  I wanted these problems gone.  I wanted to move through these things, Hel or high water.  In thanks to Her taking on the dead parts of me, I smeared blood from my left index finger across Her skull’s teeth and mouth.

Then, Odin had me change the music to loop Hagalaz’ Runedance’s The Soul of a Hound, and still somewhat tranced, He told me to put the paper, folded up in a specific way on the charcoal disk.  Then, He had me pick up Wyrdwalkers for some bibliomancy.  A section on controlling and using my breath popped up on the first reading, and the second, a section on hamingja, and regaining it.  I took this as a sign: I had to help the paper burn.  As I breathed in long, slow breaths, I could feel the Runes pulling things from my spirit bodies, could feel the blood pulling out the inequities I felt towards myself, and as my blood Rune letters burnt, I felt a release, something of joy and relief mixed with a feeling of at last!  The paper crinkled into white and black powder on the disk, and I breathed a long, deep sigh.

Odin’s voice pierced my reflective relief, and I grabbed the other clean sheet of paper.  For this, He had me turn on Hagalaz’ Runedance’s Labyrinth.  On this piece of paper, He told me to write all of the Runes that I wanted to bring into my life.  After a long while, double-checking with Rune pulls from my bag, I had it done.  I will post a picture of the bindrune that resulted from Him and I working together some time soon.  This, He told me it would not be necessary to bleed for it because these were what I would be working on for the next year and may need to change as time went on.  The idea was not to get locked into these changes quite yet, from what I remember Him saying.

Once this was done, He instructed me to dump the ashes out of the censer into a palm-sized brass bowl I had on the altar, and to take the ashes outside and offer them to the land.  It was just starting to rain; I could hear it coming down from the roof.  The charcoal disk smoke and hissed when the rainwater hit it, sending little sparks that extinguished as soon as they left the brass bowl.  As I neared a tree, He told me to dump the contents right on the ground.  I balked; why couldn’t I just put them under the tree and offer them like normal?  Then a bolt of lightning arced across the sky.  I heard, very clearly, “Offer them and go!”, in an angry voice.  I dumped the ashes onto the ground, stomping out any little bits of stray hot charcoal disk, and hoofed it inside.  The storm was really getting going as I got inside, and winds hit the house loudly.  My heart was pumping hard, but I was grateful that I had listened when I did.  He chuckled and said “There’re reasons I say what I do to you.”  I apologized, and blew out what remained of the candles.  I prayed, thanking Hela and Odin for working with me.  I heard what, energetically, felt like a quiet nod of acceptance from Her.  She tends to have a more subtle ‘feel’ to me than other Gods, and I have to strain at times to ‘hear’ Her.  Odin accepted my apology, but didn’t stop chuckling even as I came downstairs to write this.

I think what hit me about as much as the Rune magic did, is how simple it was.  Compared to previous experiences I’ve had with working like this, this rite was relatively uncomplicated, and yet it hit me hard.  I feel like I was lead through some Runic restructuring of my soul.  I’m still settling into how this feels, like a newness tinged with relief.  It’s kind of like when you move into a new place, and all the furniture is finally arranged and you’re unpacked…that…”Ahh” kind of feel.  I think that’s what is closest to it.  I’m glad it happened.  It sucked while I was making the bindrunes for all the things I wanted to let go of, having to dredge up painful memories and little niggling problems and doubts.  I feel lighter, better for it.  The challenge ahead will be to bring the new Runes I’ve written into my life, and to move forward.  He refuses to tell me anything about any more upcoming rites or magic.  Perhaps that’s for the best; approaching these things raw has let me detach myself from them a lot easier, and has given me a lot less in the way of defenses when I’m hit with old traumas or problems.  I guess in a way, this sacrifice and moving forward is what I’ve needed for a long time.  I’m glad Odin is helping to lead me on this journey.